


be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

by ShamelesslyPoetic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Extra, Extended Metaphors, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamelesslyPoetic/pseuds/ShamelesslyPoetic
Summary: After the events of “Flirting With Social Anxiety” Roman and Virgil retire to Roman’s room, confess their feelings and have a well-deserved nap.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 24
Kudos: 190





	be still my foolish heart (don’t ruin this on me)

**Author's Note:**

> A warm thank you to my ever faithful supporter and wonderful partner whose comments and encouragement are in no small part the reason I post these. Also thanks to Cade for the last minute check up and their reassurance that nothing, in fact, was off.  
> I hope you enjoy!

Roman was happy. Roman was so _so_ happy he buzzed with it. Every fiber of his being sang with joy, his heart slamming against his rib cage in the best way, overflowing like an erupting volcano or milk left too long on a stovetop or a boy whose earliest dream had come true.

As Roman followed the one who helped him achieve said dream (and the most momentous victory to date) into his room, pride gleamed high and unbidden within him, intensifying tenfold the second they stepped over Roman’s threshold. 

Roman wondered if the rest of the mindscape could feel it too, the delicious rush in his veins, the exhilaration, the pure unadulterated _euphoria_. 

With how wide Virgil’s smile stretched, Roman thought it must be possible. 

They stood face to face, Roman in the doorway and Virgil leaning against the wooden end of the bed, both grinning at each other as their chests rose and fell with the depth of their breathing. Virgil’s was laboured and a little shallow, but continuous and steady. He was shaking and rightfully so after the sensational stunt he’d pulled that day. 

When the memory flashed into Roman’s mind, Virgil pushing Thomas in the truest display of courage Roman had yet to see, he wanted to hug Virgil so much his arms ached with it. He hadn’t wrapped him in a long embrace at the mall solely because he thought it would look weird but by Zeus, what was stopping him now? 

He took a step into the room as if to reach for Virgil but then stopped short as his eyes met Virgil’s radiant pair. Those eyes, glowing above two end-of-rainbow violet whirls, shone bright as the purest brown gemstone. Amber. Dark topaz. Jesper. Or perhaps a subdivision of carnelian? Roman would have to scour Logan’s collection of precious rocks for an exact shade later. 

For now he was content with gazing into them, their blinding light, the sugar-melt gum-drop fairy-floss sweetness of hope reflected in his companion. 

And well, if he was a little overwhelmed, a little overcome by such a vision, no one could blame him for wrapping his arms around himself instead of Virgil could they?

Virgil, ever the worrywart, peered anxiously over at Roman’s hunched form. 

“Everything alright there, Princey?”

Roman threw his head back and laughed -- airy and loud. It startled Virgil a little and Roman shook his head, wiping a tear from under his eye. 

“God yes. More than that, Virgil, it’s perfect,” he confirmed brightly. “ _You’re_ perfect.”

Virgil’s face colored with a pretty blush. Carnations, sweet strawberries, cherry blossoms. 

“Ro--”

“I really wanna hug you,” Roman interrupted, clasping his hands together. “Can I hug you please?” 

Virgil stared at him. He let a croaked questioning noise. “Ohuh?”

Oh. 

“Only if you want me to of course!” Roman blurted, mouth moving a million miles an hour; it was a miracle the words didn’t come out as gibberish. “I don’t want you to feel pressured I’m not desperate or anything, definitely not as desperate as I was at the mall haha, thank you again by the way--”

“Roman!” cried Virgil, snapping Roman’s jaw shut with the sheer force of his matter-of-fact stare. “Yes. Yes you _may_ hug me.”

Roman froze. Then, in a flash of white and red and gold, surged forward, his arms pinwheeling ridiculously before he managed to get a grip on Virgil and crush him to his chest. 

“What?” Virgil wheezed as snarkily as he could through the chorded muscles trying to anaconda-squeeze him to death. “No comment about Logan’s grammar stickler tendencies rubbing off on me?”

“Not today, storm cloud,” said Roman, choked and fragile as he loosened his grip. 

Virgil patted Roman’s back, sarcastically sweet. “There there, Princey, it’s gonna be okay.

Roman shuddered as a sob-laugh wracked his frame. 

Virgil stiffened. “Are you _crying_?” He wrenched back, his hands skittering through the air. His long spider-leg fingers raced to wipe Roman’s tears. “Wait, shit, did I do something wrong?”

The tender touch was a bit much for our mushy-hearted prince, so it took him a moment to respond. 

“No no!” Roman grabbed Virgil’s hands gently, lowering them down before he let go. “I...I’m just. I’m just really happy, Virgil. Thomas is finally…he...my goodness _are_ we actually ready for this?” 

Virgil didn’t answer. Roman’s heart rate spiked, his breath hitching with a worry so acute even the natural radiation of confidence his room emanated couldn’t stifle it. 

“Fuck, what if we aren’t? What if it goes wrong? He’s such a cool guy and Thomas finally has one thing to be happy about and if I ruin this too--”

“Roman stop!” said Virgil cuttingly. “Breathe.”

“Yeah,” Roman rasped out, heaving. “Yeah, okay. Four, seven, eight right? 

Virgil smiled softly. “There you go.” 

It took a few tries before Roman’s inhales and exhales stabilized enough to use the countdown and somewhere in the interim Virgil had splayed his fingers across Roman’s chest to guide him through it. 

“Just relax.”

Roman snorted, too preoccupied to be embarrassed about the ingelancy of the sound. “You’re one to talk.”

“Shush,” Virgil tutted. “Panic attacks are no fun. I would know.”

To that, Roman couldn’t really say anything. Even though he wanted to, even though he wanted to offer up consolation or comfort, he knew Virgil hated pity so he stayed quiet. 

“Roman…” began Virgil. He glanced down at where his hands rested on Roman’s chest, blinking as if bewildered, as if they hadn’t moved of his accord. He stepped away, shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His eyeshadow blackened back into dark gray and he wouldn’t meet Roman’s eyes. “What was that about you ruining this?”

Roman, slightly concerned by Virgil’s sudden withdrawal but trying not to show it, grumbled petulantly. “We weren’t supposed to angst today.”

Virgil’s eyes darted up to Roman’s and he smirked that one sourdough-crooked smirk Roman loved as much as it had infuriated him in the early days. “Excuse you, there’s never a bad time for angst! Angst makes for the best romantic tragedies.”

“Touché,” clucked Roman, almost disapproving of himself for agreeing. But when you literally worshipped Shakespeare you had to have a taste for tragedy, not that Roman would ever admit it. “I really don’t want this to end up a tragedy though.”

“Same,” said Virgil but he still had that probing poker face on, as well as the colorless eyeshadow. 

“Can we...check in for the Prince Roman woe program tomorrow?” Roman wagered. 

Virgil crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “We _are_ gonna talk.”

“Yes I promise, but later. I...I just wanna bask in this for a moment.” 

Virgil deflated, arms dropping to his sides (ha) once more as he sighed. 

“And I’d argue you’re a bit too tired for serious-talk time anyway,” Roman added for good measure. It was true, Virgil’s slumped shoulders and drooping eyelids showed for his exhaustion. He’d really spent himself that day, panicking again and again. The dog had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and Roman, hopelessly fond and maybe a little lovesick, was torn between being proud and chastising his hardworking friend. 

Friend? Why did that not sound entirely right?

Maybe it was because of the way Roman’s heart fluttered or the way he was breathing in flowers and confidence and pride or the kinetic energy that freely flowed between them, Roman high on adrenaline, Virgil tired and yet so frenzied in a duality that honestly made him look stunning. Or...maybe it was the way Virgil was looking at him, head tilted and eyes shining, like Roman had handed him the moon on a silver platter. 

“Never too tired for you, Princey,” Virgil cooed mockingly. But he meant it. 

Roman rolled his eyes, ignoring him. “Lets go lay down okay?”

Virgil nodded. His expression subsided into something timid and gentle. “Okay.”

And that’s when it dawned on Roman. They were alone. Him and Virgil, Virgil and him. Alone in Roman’s room. 

Aphrodite have mercy on his poor soul. 

Originally they stumbled in to prolong the blissful feelings, Roman with the ulterior motive of ignoring the ever-crumbling reality awaiting him just outside, the one he’d been forced to confront in front of a public bathroom. 

But Virgil needed rest or he would run rampant for the rest of the day, expending himself even more. So perhaps Roman’s offer had been a little forward so what? Sue him for not wanting Virgil to faint. 

Still, with Virgil on the bed, _his_ bed, Roman hesitated. 

Virgil made grabby hands in a request for cuddles and Roman thought he must be really far gone, exhaustion hooked too deep in his skin to keep up his tough-love emo character. Not that Virgil was disingenuous but Roman understood asking for affection “under normal circumstances” wasn’t easy for him, nevermind that Roman wanted to hold him forever reasons be damned. 

And there. There Virgil was, unfurled and willing and _confident_. 

Roman’s room had apparently worked its magic faster then usual, which wasn’t incomprehensible given the amount of energy electrifying Roman one vertebrae at a time, rolling down his spine in pleasant shivery waves. 

Roman had stood still for a moment too long and Virgil pouted. Roman, frantic to coax his face back into elated warmth, finally accepted Virgil into his arms, who wiggled to find the right position. Which ended up being his face pillowed on Roman’s bicep with his legs draped across the top of Roman’s thighs, the sheets pooling with the scent of buttercream and freshly picked roses beneath them. 

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, intercepted only by gentle breaths that had now settled down and Virgil’s absent drumming on Roman’s knee. 

Virgil broke first. “Roman?”

Roman typically would have responded with a “yes?” coupled by a nickname but he just hummed a pleased little sound as he pulled back to look Virgil in the eye, to indicate that he was listening.

Virgil said nothing and Roman waited patiently, expectant, when Virgil propped himself up and mashed their lips together. 

If not for the effects of his room, Roman would be certain he was dreaming. 

Their foreheads knocked and Virgil’s hands scrabble-squeaked on the bed like a tumbling mountain climber searching for purchase until Roman saved him from his predicament. He guided Virgil’s arms around his own waist and dipped forward over him, tilting his head into the kiss and savoring the licorice-plum medley playing on his tongue. 

The feelings that fire-crackered through him were liquid-fast, weaving up his veins, carving ornate shapes into his bones, dressing him in starlight that burst from the cove of his mouth and showered him in brilliant gold and silver sparks. 

Virgil felt like honey and hazel bloom, the cling of lipstick and chocolate and morning dew. Pink salt. Pearl ink. The orange blazes and red pops and lilac strokes that comprised sunsets. The softest velvet and sweetest birdsong. Treasure Roman cradled in his hands, hair that tickled his cheek like butterfly wings and shy fingertips that smoothed up his chest and caressed the hollows beside his neck. Lips, dry and cracked and bitten and slightly tangy but so very soft. Roman had never felt more alive, not even as Nico led Thomas to his table. 

When Virgil finally pulled back, so close he murmured the words right against Roman’s mouth, Roman’s eyes remained shut. He was a little dazed, and despite that the kiss hadn’t been particularly heavy, utterly breathless. 

“Sorry,” said Virgil, breaking the spell. 

When Roman opened his eyes Virgil’s eyeshadow had glimmered back into purple and he grinned so wide Virgil’s breath hitched. Roman could see his adam’s apple rippling the long expanse of his neckline. He wanted to kiss him there, maybe leave a teeny tiny mark, but refrained, mentally waving away his room’s influence. 

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I’ve wanted this for ages.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, the purple underneath shimmering faintly. “Then why didn’t you--?” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “S-Still, I rushed in, I--”

Roman ducked and kissed the words out of Virgil’s mouth. The second time around it felt like a blazing forest fire. Or a cozy hearth’s flame. Or perhaps somewhere in between. 

“It’s okay,” Roman breathed out when they parted for oxygen. “I loved every second.”

Virgil’s shoulders fell from their tense line and he sighed shakily. Once, twice, then he smiled up at Roman. Small and precious as the first bud of spring. “I’m glad,” he murmured with a nonsensical gesture. “We um, took a huge chance today, ya know? I...I figured what’s one more.”

Roman grinned, caught Virgil’s frantically fluttering hand mid-air, and pressed his lips to the back of it. He held Virgil’s palm to his face, tilting his head to the side to kiss it as well. 

“Valid,” he generously allowed.

Virgil blushed, hiding in the crook of Roman’s neck as he tugged his hand back and curled it into his own chest. 

Sudden and too-bright in the calm joy of the room, Roman laughed. “God, Virgil, I love you.”

Virgil looked up at Roman, awed. His eyeshadow glittered. “You...you do?”

Roman stopped, slipping into a porcelain-perfect statue. Slowly, his hand rose as if to clamp over his mouth or slap himself. He lowered it back down. Roman then looked away, sheepish but smiling like a rising sun. “Yes, I do,” he whispered, afraid anything too loud would ruin the moment. “But I think that’s a conversation for after you wake up.”

“Fair,” conceded Virgil reluctantly. “I’m holding you to it though. I won’t forget, Roman. About _either_ talks.” A threat and a promise. Exactly what Virgil was, exactly how Roman liked him. 

Maybe it was a tad underhanded, but Roman kissed Virgil’s forehead and flashed him another grin. “Kay.”

Virgil’s mouth fell open. He closed his eyes and sighed, brows upturned in fond exasperation. 

Roman cooed and pressed more featherlight kisses to each of Virgil’s cheeks. The tip of his nose. He stopped an inch above his lips. Virgil opened his eyes but instead of his perfunctory blank face, his eyes shone open and guileless. Limpid and hopeful. 

Before speaking Virgil closed the distance between them, pecking Roman to seal the deal. “And even if I do you’ll remind me right?” 

Roman’s face softened into resigned adoration. “Of course,” he promised, kissing each of Virgil’s eyelids. “Now sleep, my beautiful blackbird.”

Virgil’s face scrunched in mild annoyance but he didn’t call Roman on using enchanted fairy-dust to will him into sleep _or_ the throwback. Instead, he looped his hands through Roman’s arm pits, clinging to his shoulders like a baby koala. 

Virgil yawned, rubbing his face on Roman’s undershirt that peeked from his collar. “Mmh, only if you do.”

“As you wish, my featherbrained fellow.”

Virgil gave him an unimpressed look. “Stop,” he deadpanned. 

Roman grinned obnoxiously, bumping their noses. “Never, my captivating corvid.”

Virgil groaned, tucking his face into Roman’s chest. “I hate you.”

Funny how the words sounded like an “I love you”, even though he hadn’t said it back the first time. 

“I love you too,” replied Roman, dropping one last kiss to the crown of Virgil’s head. 

He must have taken a moment to get the words out through the lump in his throat, because Virgil’s eyelids had slipped shut and his breath had settled into a rhythmic pattern. Washing onto Roman’s lips was peppermint, Virgil’s breath smelled like peppermint. 

Roman knew Virgil couldn’t hear but he said it again anyway. 

“Thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil, fast asleep, nuzzled into the rumble of Roman’s voice. 

With a snap of his fingers Roman cloaked the room in darkness and the fairy strings across the canopy of his bed glowed to life. Licorice and plum still tingled on his lips and even in sleep Virgil’s eyeshadow glowed with tiny divots of amethyst under the fairy light. Roman drifted off, content for the first time in months. 

Outside the mindscape, Thomas felt like he could do anything. Absolutely anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hi! That masterpiece of a video inspired this directly upon completion. I wrote the 2.5k in one sitting, that’s how much the inspiration wizard blessed me. Drop a comment for a 1 in 10 chance of a visit from him! 
> 
> Also please reblog [here](https://shamelesslypoetic.tumblr.com/post/631913695139790848/be-still-my-foolish-heart-dont-ruin-this-on-me), this :) took :) two :) hours :) formatting :) on :) phone :) ahaha :) 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading. Don’t forget to drink your loving Roman juice. 
> 
> See you soon. 
> 
> Elise xoxo


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